“You know, when Jake and Jonny created TMS Records, they were the youngest people ever to own and run their own label,” Bob tells Storm.
My eyes come back to Bob, and he gives me a smile.
Picking up the bottle of water from the table, I pour some out before offering it to everyone else.
“So, who do you have signed to your label then?” Storm asks with a begrudging tone, but he’s talking to me. So, I run with it.
“We have The Devil’s Own, and of course, Vintage—”
“I love their music,” Tiffany says.
“Oh, and we’ve just signed Lennox,” I add.
“Lennox?” Storm’s eyes show immediate interest.
“Yeah. You like them?”
“Like is putting it mildly.” Tiffany laughs softly.
“Yeah, well, they’re awesome,” Storm says defensively, in only that way a teenager can.
“I can arrange for you to meet them sometime, if you’d like,” I tell him.
“Really?” His face is all lit up.
I know that I’m making some ground with him. Even if only a small amount, it’s a move in the right direction.
We spend the rest of dinner talking about bands we like. Storm tells us about songs he can play on his guitar. I ask him to get his guitar and play some for us, but he declines. He does that embarrassed look that my kids do when they don’t want to do something, so I don’t push it with Storm. There will be plenty of time to hear his abilities even though I am dying to see if he plays like Jonny did.
“That lasagna was amazing.” Bob presses his hand to his stomach. “Thank Marie for us.”
“She’ll be pleased to hear that you enjoyed it,” Tiffany says.
“Well, let us clean up since you fed us.” Bob stands, picking up his plate.
“No, it’s fine.” Tiffany waves him down.
But I know that there’s no way she can stand at the sink, washing dishes, with how sick she is.
“It’s no trouble. And my wife would have my ass if she knew I hadn’t offered to clean up.” I stand, collecting the rest of the plates. I take them over to the sink.
“Bob, why don’t you and Tiffany go sit in the living room, and Storm and I will do the dishes?”
Storm’s eyes flash to mine. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue, and then he seems to relent.
“Sure. You go rest, Mom.” He stands. Going over to the sink, he starts to fill it with water, adding dish washing liquid.
“I’ll wash,” I tell him, rolling up my sleeves. I have no clue where the dishes need to go, so it’ll be easier this way.
Storm brings the rest of the dishes over, and I start washing.
After I place the washed plate on the dish drainer, he picks it up and starts to dry it with a dish towel.
“Not very rock and roll,” he says. “Never thought I’d see the day when Jake Wethers was standing in my kitchen, washing the dishes. I almost feel like I should take a picture.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, don’t.” I laugh. “Tom and Den would never let me live it down.”
He chuckles again, and then silence descends between us as we wash the dishes.
“What was he like?” His softly spoken words blindside me. There’s an ache to them, and it’s like a blade piercing my chest.
I turn my eyes to him, to find him already watching me.
“Jonny?” I’m careful not to call Jonny his dad. I don’t want to pour fuel on Storm’s kindling flame.
“Yeah,” he utters, his eyes sweeping the floor.
I stare down into the soapy water my hands are in. “He was wild, impulsive, and stubborn. But he was loyal, talented and smart as hell.” A smile plays on my lips. “He could play a guitar like you’d never seen before. And…he was my best friend.” A lump chokes my throat. I turn, pressing my back against the counter. “You look exactly like he did at your age.”
“You knew him when he was young?”
“Yeah.” I give him a sad smile.
Storm turns away. Walking over to a cupboard, he puts a plate away and closes the cupboard door. Still facing away, he says, “I read some stuff on the Internet…about Jonny. It said…well, it said that…he killed himself.”
My body tenses up.
Storm turns to face me, leaning back against the counter.
I look him in the eyes. “Jonny didn’t kill himself.” I try to keep my voice even. “He had too much to live for. He just…he made a really bad decision that night when he climbed into his car. It was an accident. A tragic accident.”
I want to tell Storm that Jonny would never have even been in that situation if he’d known about Storm, but it’d sound like I was blaming Tiffany for the choices she’d made, and I don’t want to do that.
Shifting on his feet, he glances down at them. “Look…I know there was a chance that you could have been my dad.” His eyes flick back up to mine.
I can’t hide the surprise on my face.
“I overheard Mom talking to Marie one day.”
“Oh.”
“I know Mom was wild back in the day.”
I don’t know what to say. What does he want me to say?
Fuck. I’m not prepared for this.
He wraps his arms around his stomach. “I bet you were relieved when you found out that I wasn’t your kid,” he utters. “I know you have this perfect family. You wouldn’t want someone like me coming along and screwing it up.”